Generation 18(83)

"Warrant on the way, sweetie. No current information on Rose Sanders available."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Driver's license lapsed in 2040. No record of utility payments since then. No credit transactions recorded. No usage of Medicare card."

"No death certificate?"

"None issued or recorded."

Interesting. Rose dropped out of site about the same time as Sanders graduated from the police academy. How the two were connected, she wasn't sure. But they were connected, she was sure of that.

"Warrant approved, sweetness."

"Good. Grab the adoption records and do a scan for Rose and Michael Sanders."

"Can do." The boa twirled for several minutes. "Record for Rose Pierce onscreen."

She looked through the documents. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Rose was placed into Silhouettes care when she was twelve months old, after being in the hospital for several months. A search for relatives had come up with no one. Rose stayed at the state run home until adopted by the Sanders family. "Print me a copy of the ID photo, will you?"

"Printing. No records available for Michael Sanders."

For some reason, she wasn't entirely surprised. She glanced back to Rose's file. The officer in charge of the adoption was one Mary Elliot. She frowned — that name was familiar, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Found a police report for the Sanders' accident, sweetie."

"Read it out loud, Iz. My headache's back."

"If you work yourself as hard as you work me, I'm not surprised."

She grinned. "Just read the report, Iz."

"The Sanders' car was run off the Great Ocean Road and plowed into a tree at high speed, killing both instantly. Several witnesses' report seeing a red four-wheel drive hit the rear of the Sanders car just before the accident. The four-wheel drive was later recovered in Warrnambool."

"Stolen?"

"Yes. There were no prints beyond the owners within the car."

"Did the witnesses ID the driver?"

"Description was deemed too vague. A big man with red-gold hair was all that the witnesses' were able to provide."

A cold sensation crept over her skin. Red gold hair — the signature of Hopeworth's children. Maybe the military had discovered Rose's existence, and rather than jeopardize their precious project, they'd tried to destroy Rose and her parents.

So who had looked after Michael? Rose? "Did you find anything on Michael Sanders birth parents?"

"Not a dot, sweetie."

"There has to be something on record."

"Sorry, sweetness. There's no record of a William and Barbara Ryan having a son named Michael born in 2020."

"But how is that possible? Background checks are a part of joining. With such a discrepancy in his records, he should never have been cleared to join."

The boa twirled. "I'm not the recruiting officer. Don't ask me."

She rubbed her chin. "Did anything untoward happen around the time of Sanders' supposed birth date?"

Izzy tapped a knobby foot for several seconds. "Headlines on screen, sweetie."